The front door was still wide open, but that didn’t stop him. He carried me inside like I weighed nothing.
“You know we can move house if you don’t want to live here,” he said, kicking the door shut behind us.
“No, I love your home,” I said, nestling closer.
“Our home,” he corrected softly.
Then it hit me. I blinked. “Wait… I didn’t sign a prenup.”
He chuckled and gathered the long, delicate material of my skirt to carry me up the stairs.
“You’ve got our baby inside you. You’re married to me. You’re never going to leave,” he said, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. “I don’t need you to sign a thing.”
I wasn’t sure if that was sweet or slightly psychotic, so I just shrugged. “You know you still need to go back down and lock the double doors, right?”
“I’ll do it after load number one’s inside you,” he replied without missing a beat.
I shook my head, grinning like an idiot.
Upstairs, the bedroom looked like something out of a romantic hotel spread with two bottles nestled in ice buckets that had half-melted, a cloche-covered dish, and pale rose petals scattered across the bed.
“Fizzy apple juice for you,” Silas said, lifting the bottles before setting them aside again.
“This must’ve been Connie’s doing,” I murmured, smiling as I took in the scene.
He grunted—probably annoyed that he didn’t plan it himself—but gently lifted one of my feet into his lap, undoing the thin strap at my ankle.
I lay flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he slid my gold sandals off, one by one.
“Do you know why I want to live here?” I asked softly.
“No,” he replied, his focus still on my feet.
“I had a crush on you… and I used to spy on you,” I admitted, fiddling with the gold beading on my scarf as my face burned.
“No way,” he said, but the smirk tugging at his mouth gave him away.
“My mum caught me once and—” I paused, my smile fading. “She said some things.”
Horrible things. Words that didn’t belong in any mother’s mouth. She took something silly and innocent—a harmless crush I would’ve grown out of—and twisted it into something vile. Made me feel small, ashamed. Unwelcome. After that, I stayed away, even during school breaks.
His smirk vanished.
“What did she say?” he asked, brows pulling together.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to relive it. I didn’t want to give her voice power here.
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” I said, quieter this time.
“No,” he agreed after a pause. “It doesn’t. But if you ever want to talk about anything—anything at all—you know I’m here, right?”
He rubbed my foot between his palms and I let out a groan. After a full day in heels, it felt like heaven.
Silas might not always say the perfect thing. But he always made me feel safe.
And right now, that was everything.
“You know you’re still my personal fucktoy, Mrs Voss,” he murmured.
